Three Questions
by Dryth
Summary: Jackson invites Lisa to drinks every Wednesday.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi folks. Wanted to write a story that did not involve Jackson being angry psychopath. Trying to go from the angle that the way he acted is how he is when he is working, much like how Lisa is extra nice when she works.

* * *

Jackson broke his gaze away from the crowd to check his watch. When he looked back up to survey the parking lot, he realized that he had already forgotten what time it was. In irritation, he pulled his phone out and set it on the little table of a bar he had inhabited for the past hour. 'Five fifty-two' the phone taunted. Eight minutes before it was time to give up.

The click of high heels screamed to him above the rest of the street noises. It was in perfect tempo to match Lisa's agitated gait. The purposeful tapping was a sound he memorized years ago tailing the hotel manager. Jackson named this particular song the 'Staccato Bitch' because it was the only body language that ever put Lisa's anger on display.

She stopped right behind him and it took all of his willpower to not turn around. If she didn't want to see him, if she decided to turn around and leave, he would let her.

But Lisa eventually took the last three steps and swiftly sat across from him. She set her designer bag on her lap and kept one hand inside of it.

"You should know that I have a gun in my purse." Lisa's eyes were darker than he remembered.

Jackson smiled. "Noted."

It was not the answer that Lisa expected. She stayed silent and studied Jackson as she built her mental wall brick by brick.

"I didn't actually think you would show up on my first invitation," he said.

"I remember how it goes for my family and me if I don't do what you want." Her voice was darker, too.

Jackson kept smiling but the sincerity died. "Relax, Leese. No one is at your house waiting to ice your dad."

She leaned in closer. "Then what am I doing here?"

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm here to get a drink and catch up with an old friend."

"Rippner, I don't have the time or the patience to go through all off this preliminary bullshit. Just tell me what you want."

It took Jackson longer than he wanted to give her an answer. He had rehearsed in his head what he wanted to say over and over, but it never came out perfect. And if his answer sounded stupid in his head, what he was finally able to push out sounded downright pathetic. "I just wanted to catch up. To see you."

She snorted at him. "You and I both know that you are perfectly capable of 'catching up' on my life without my help."

"While that is true, I've refrained from those extracurricular activities."

Lisa began to measure out every word of the conversation in her head. "You're not here to harass me into doing something?"

Jackson shook his head.

"And you're not threatening me or my family in any way?"

"Nor will I," he promised.

"This is a fucking _social call_?"

"Yes," he said flatly.

Lisa leaned back in her chair. "I don't believe you."

Even though the conversation was taking the exact turns that Jackson had envisioned, it was hard not to let the exasperation seep into his voice or body language. He was trying so damn hard to be neutral and non-confrontational.

"Leese. I am not here to murder, maim, stab, shoot or otherwise injure, stalk, bully, coerce, manipulate, or anything else that you can think up toward you or your family or friends." He tried to be as thorough as possible.

The pent up aggression in Lisa's features did not fade away at Jackson's promise. He could see ideas click into place behind those darker-than-he-recalled eyes. She stood up fluidly and glided over next to him. Jackson watched her fingers traced the edge of the glass table almost seductively.

"Jackson."

Her face was completely blank, but he knew what was coming even without the body language to tip him off. He could have stopped the slap, and nearly did out of pure reflex, but was able to steady himself out of force of will. It was as if Lisa had daydreamed about this moment. She knew exactly where her palm would land on his cheekbone and where her fingers would leave marks. Jackson wondered if slapping him was as satisfying as she had hoped it would be.

It was like sex with a stranger; once all the passion had gone out after the climax, neither lover had any idea what to do. So they stayed still in the position they ended up in: Jackson with his head turned towards Lisa but staring at a spot between her blue high heels and Lisa with her still stinging hand in the air and breathing heavily.

"Same time next week, then?" He spoke to the cement.

She left without an answer. Jackson almost felt comforted by the steady, angry rhythm of 'Staccato Bitch' in a way. As the sound died out over the noises of the crowd, he had to fight himself not to run after the music.

* * *

Jackson always arrived at his table at four thirty, ordered a Manhattan on the rocks, and waited. He usually finished his first drink at five seventeen and most nights he ordered a second.

Jackson had picked Wednesday night for drinks with Lisa because she usually had Thursday off. But that was before the red eye. Who knows what she had changed in her life since then. Well, besides the gun.

Lisa did not show up the next week or the week after that, but Jackson waited dutifully. He was determined to see this through.

He always left at six fifteen.

A month from the day of their first meeting at the bar, Lisa showed up at six ten.

"No threatening visits to my work place? No running after me and strangling me against my car?"

Jackson's mouth parted slightly when Lisa fell into the seat across from him. How had he not heard her approaching?

"Buy me a drink," she told him.

Her skin was splotchy and she could not seem to sit up straight in her chair. After he ordered her a sea breeze, he turned an accusatory look toward her. No wonder he didn't notice her earlier. Her drunken, wobbly steps were not ones that he had heard before.

"How much have you already had?"

"A lot," she said simply. Happily, even.

"My, my. First the gun, then the slap, and now out partying by yourself? Who is this new Lisa?" He smiled.

She rewarded him with an over exaggerated smile of her own. "Oh, I'm not by myself. Some friends from work are in the bar across the street." She turned to them and waved enthusiastically. Two people waved back.

The server dropped off Lisa's drink but she didn't move for it. "I drive by here every Wednesday night, you know."

"I did not," Jackson said in a measured tone.

"You're always here."

"I am."

She finally started in on her drink. Jackson's eyebrow quirked up when nearly half the glass was gone on her first gulp.

"Why?"

Jackson's gaze dropped to the ice in his glass. Her unbroken eye contact made him feel uneasy.

"Leese, I didn't lie the first time. I just wanted to see you."

She tilted head into her hand and sipped noisily from her straw. "Why?"

Because I have regrets. Because you're beautiful. "I want to show you I'm the same guy from the Tex Mex."

She snorted, but then: "Why?"

"Are you five?"

"Yes. Answer the question."

Instead he looked over towards her friends from the bar across the street. They seemed to be watching him closely.

"You have a bet going, Leese?"

"Mhm."

"And? What were the terms? Did you have to score a phone number or something?" He was relieved that it was so easy to change the topic of conversation.

"Nope," she answered simply. She shook her empty glass and the ice rattled petulantly. "Buy me another?"

"If you answer some questions."

"Done!" Lisa slapped the table. "Three questions."

Satisfied with their deal, Jackson left for the bar. It never took long for a bartender to notice him regardless of the gender of the barkeep or the business of the bar. Between his sharp clothes, his eyes, and his natural good looks, he never had to wait longer than three minutes for a drink.

He plunked her drink in front of her and grabbed the empty one. "So, three questions?"

She nodded and sipped her drink at a more leisurely pace. "That counted as one."

"No it didn't."

She pouted but let it go easily enough.

"You are rather inebriated for it only being a little past six," he commented.

"That wasn't a question."

"Fine. Tell me about your life."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ripper, but that response was still not in the form of a question." Her Alex Trabek impression was miserable but he smiled anyway.

"Do you ever think of me?"

"Yes," she answered, but that was the extent of her response.

"Lisa." His hand reached across the table and touched her elbow. "Tell me."

Her gaze fell to his hand and she took a long sip of her beverage. "Alright, Jack," she said finally. When she met his gaze again, he pulled his hand away from her. He knew he wasn't going to like her answer.

"I think about you when…" She licked her lips in mock seduction. "I think about you when I have to walk to my car in the dark." She outlined the lip of her drink with her fingers as she continued. "I think about you when I hear unfamiliar noises in my house."

She uncoiled her arms and took his hand in hers. "I think about you whenever I'm alone, really. I think to myself 'today is the day, Lisa. Today is when Jackson Rippner will come for you to get revenge. Any second now he's going to drop in through the maintenance hatch in the elevator and finish you off."

The way she held his hand between hers almost seemed affectionate. Jackson had no idea what was happening. "Lisa, I wouldn't-"

"You followed me to my father's house and tried to kill me, Jack." She suddenly sounded amazingly sober.

"I know."

She squinted her eyes at him for a moment before she released is hand and stood up. "Thanks for the quickie, Jack."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry for the long wait between updates. WoW expansion launched and that has been keeping me busy.

Thank you so much for the reviews. They all mean so much to me.

This chapter definitely took a life of its own and it has left me a little hesitant. This was not the direction I had initially wanted for the story but I'm going to try to roll with it.

* * *

There was someone at Jackson's regular table and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. The disdain only lasted for moments, though, when he realized the person was Lisa.

"May I sit?"

Lisa jolted into a more upright position at his voice before nodding her consent.

"You're here early," he said.

"I deleted the first few texts you sent me. The recent invitation didn't have a time," she explained.

"Been here long?" he asked.

She only shook her head.

"I'm surprised you showed up. Our last chat seemed final," he said honestly.

Lisa was obviously having trouble remembering exactly what he was talking about. The server dropped off Jackson's drink without an order even being placed.

As soon as his regular server was out of earshot, he offered, "You thanked me for the 'quickie' and then walked away."

"Oh, that."

"You know, when I said it, at least other people really did think we were having se-"

"Who says that wasn't true this time?"

Jackson looked over to the bar across the street where her friends had been watching them the week previous. "Your bet?"

"Yeah." Lisa fidgeted with her empty glass. "I won, by the way."

Jackson thought back, how she had held his hand for the final minutes of their chat. Lisa had certainly put on a show for her friends. "Lisa, the only time I wasn't in their line of sight was when I got your drink." She must have followed him into the bar and hurried back out before he could notice her.

"Yep."

"That was like four minutes tops. I'm pretty sure it would take longer than that just to find a dark corner."

"I actually told them you couldn't get it up. I won on a technicality."

Jackson could only blink at her.

Half a Manhattan and too much awkward silence later, Jackson accidently let a stray thought slip out of his head. "You often take bets on sleeping with strangers, Leese?"

He expected her face to contort in anger and a face full of vodka. Instead, she shrugged. "When I know I can win."

Jackson had, until this point, done a decent job keeping his composure. When he started down this path, he had made sure to give Lisa complete control of their situation. It was not something he particularly liked, but he knew giving the reins over to her would build trust in him.

But now, this Lisa was someone he had never met before. Gone were the nights of television and scrambled eggs; they were now filled with less innocent things.

It was like opening a gift he'd always wanted only to realized, now that it was finally there in front of him, that he hated it but he still had to smile and say thank you all the same.

Jackson was never very good at turning the other cheek and saying thank you. "If I knew it was that easy I would have shown up months ago."

Everything in Lisa's body went on high alert. Looking back, she marveled at how easy it was for him to turn on his more menacing persona, but now in the middle of things, she reached for her purse on the table.

Jackson watched her with a bored expression as she pulled the bag into her lap and no doubt aimed the gun at him. "Tell me Leese, what's your going rate?"

Not even the implication of being a whore evoked a reaction from her. "Is that one of your questions, Jack?"

"Yes," he spat out after a stretch of terse silence.

"The promise that I would never see you again," she said. "No coming after me or anyone I know."

"How do you know I'd keep that promise after I've gotten what I want?"

"You never lie, Jack."

Any moment, he expected Lisa to call it off. She must be bluffing.

This was when something inside Jackson woke up and started screaming at him. How did the conversation turn so sinister so fast? It was bad enough that he was letting her bargain with her body what he would give freely, but he made it seem like he was only there for sex.

It was too late now. Jackson saw the cliff and, despite the screaming, put his foot half on and half over the edge. "You drive."

He left enough money for their drinks and followed Lisa into the parking lot. He walked three or so feet behind her and regarded her with cruel scrutiny. Jackson picked out hundreds of things wrong with her; flaws that weren't there when he tailed her years ago. Every one of those discrepancies clawed at his gut, but he marched on to the steady rhythm of Staccato Bitch.

When Lisa stopped at her car, she rooted around in her purse for her keys without looking at him. He could recognize the headstrong mode that she was in a mile away.

He was swept away in seeing how far she would take this charade. Without realizing it, Jackson had put his other foot halfway over the cliff. He could only teeter for milliseconds before falling forward or back.

When Lisa looked back up from her purse he was gone.

* * *

After the first time Lisa had met Jackson at the bar, she sat in her car for a long while and watched him. He did not follow her, as promised, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to do everything she could to protect herself. She waited until he left to see what kind of car he drove. She wasn't foolish enough to try to tail him, but she was looking for a heads up to possible sticky situations.

This time, anger dulled her sensibilities so when she saw Jackson's car leave the parking lot, she floored it after him.

Lisa was not trying to be sneaky or stealthy. She knew better than to fool herself into thinking she could track him.

She rammed the back of his pretty car and that was all it took. He hit his hazard lights and pulled off into the shoulder.

Lisa kicked her door open and didn't bother slamming it shut behind her. "What the hell is your problem?" She screamed at him as loud as she could – partly so that he could hear her over the passing traffic, but mostly because she was that angry.

"Are you insane?" he yelled back.

She marched up to him and shoved him as hard as she could back against his car. "You will not say a word, you hear me? You will shut the hell up and listen."

His lips tightened but he didn't say anything. He leaned back against his passenger door and glared down at the petite woman bossing him around.

She punctuated the start of each sentence with an unkind jab to his chest. "YOU are the one that insisted on coming back into my life. YOU are the one who sent me texts every week to meet. YOU are the whole goddamn reason we met in the first place, Jack."

She took a few steps back and held her arms out as if to put herself on display. "And now suddenly I'm not good enough for you?"

She crossed her arms suddenly. "Do you know why I started all this? Why I started going to clubs and getting wasted and, yes, even going home with some men I met that very night?"

Jackson knew why. He knew why all along but didn't want to admit it. It was probably, he thought in hindsight, why he was reacting so poorly.

"I am like this because of you," she said. Her eyes were bloodshot with the effort not to cry. "Did you really think I could have walked off that red eye the same person?"

He continued to watch her with a hard expression, deciding not to say anything. He knew his answer would only upset her anyway.

"Do you know what it does to someone? Thinking everyday could be the last?"

He closed his eyes and refused to open them. This was his fault. If she had gotten it into her head that he would come for her at any time, of course she would go a little crazy. What harm would drinks with strangers do compared to sitting home and waiting to be murdered?

Besides, what's the worst thing that could happen in the mean time? Getting raped again?

"I never said I was coming back to kill you, Leese," he finally argued.

"But you did say you were coming back," she said quietly, "and when has that ever been a good thing for me?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry that you find me wanting," she closed the little gap between them, snarling up at him. "I'm sorry that I'm not perfect little Lisa anymore."

"You were never perfect," he growled.

Lisa's hand impulsively flew to her scar but she held her ground. "What was the plan, Jack? Fly back into Miami and save me from my terribly boring life?"

When his eyes finally fell to meet hers she knew she struck close to the truth. She smiled ruefully and started backing up towards her car.

"Not you, Jack. You're not allowed to judge me. Everyone else has, but you have no right."

Before she could get into the driver's seat, Jackson called after her. "Do you?" She stopped and turned her face to the side to indicate she was listening. "Do you need someone to save your from your terribly boring life?"

"Is that your third question?"

Jackson considered saying no and driving away. With the last question still up in the air, he had an excuse to see her again.

If he said yes, all his chips would be down. The payoff would either be astronomical or catastrophic, but luck was already against him. It was not a winning bet.

Jackson didn't care.

"Yes."

"No Jackson. I don't need rescuing."

Even if she did, Jackson wasn't exactly the rescuing type as he usually played for the other team. He hadn't the foggiest idea of what to do.

Lisa drove away without looking back and he just watched her with his hands deep in his pockets.

When her car was out of sight he punched the passenger-side window as hard as he could.


End file.
